


A Dragon's Vengeance

by chicago_ruth



Category: Original Work
Genre: Betrayal, Bondage, Dragons, Elves, Gang Rape, Hemipenis, M/M, Orcs, Princes & Princesses, Rape as Revenge, Rimming, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-07-29 12:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16264223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicago_ruth/pseuds/chicago_ruth
Summary: Prince Sarrith's choice of wedding gift comes with a terrible consequence.(Or: Two elves are accosted by a dragon and an orc pirate crew.)





	A Dragon's Vengeance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mieldyne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mieldyne/gifts).



Prince Sarrith leaned against the ship’s railing, enjoying the breeze and, more importantly, the view. Not the view of the ocean, mind. He had plenty of good views from his room at the palace, and he’d never cared much about water for itself.

No, the view in question was his friend Lord Valen, second son to Duke Paran, and a fine piece of ass. Right then, Valen had settled himself in front of the ship’s main cargo, a good distance away—to better avoid the cargo’s teeth, presumably—, and was painting it with broad, colorful strokes. Valen had always been an artist, and he threw himself into painting in a way most men of court threw themselves to drink or sex. 

Only for now, though. Sarrith checked the position of the sun, and decided that Valen had done enough of his little hobby. He strode over and sat down on a crate nearby, admiring his friend’s pert ass from the close distance. Wonderful round globes, perfectly suited to his lithe frame. The white of his breeches complemented the loose green tunic he wore, and his brown hair was tied back in a neat ponytail. His hair wasn’t as long as Sarrith’s, of course, since he wasn’t as high status, but there was enough there that Sarrith could run his hands through it, tease Valen’s long ears with it. 

“I know you’re staring,” Valen said, not lifting his gaze from his canvas. “How may I help you, Your Highness?” 

“I am utterly bored, my dearest Valen,” Sarrith answered, standing and crowding Valen from behind. He placed his hands on Valen’s hips and thrust his crotch forward to rub against Valen’s ass, and he enjoyed the way Valen’s ears turned bright red. “Perhaps you could put away the paints, and—”

The cargo gave a loud cry, drawing the attention of all the sailors and sending Valen stumbling backwards a few steps. Not quite the way Sarrith had envisioned it, but he didn’t mind the forced intimacy. He wrapped his arms around Valen’s waist and drew him even further back. 

“Come. Leave the beast, and you and I can entertain ourselves elsewhere.” Sarrith nuzzled into Valen’s shoulder, rubbing his own long ears against Valen’s. Valen loved that—it was a surefire way to get Valen into the mood.

But the beast roared again, apparently bent on destroying the mood and Sarrith’s attempts at seduction. It had been hard enough lately to get Valen to agree to a tumble, what with the upcoming engagement. As if Sarrith cared about a political arrangement; he had no intention of remaining faithful to somebody who was sure to be as ugly as a hound. He’d requested Valen along on this trip to meet his consort-to-be in order to convince Valen that there was an arrangement to be had here.

Unfortunately, Valen had retreated into his silly hobby, painting the beast from every angle, under every light. The few times they’d come together, there were tears in Valen’s eyes, as if these were their final days together.

“I think something’s wrong,” Valen murmured, stepping away from Sarrith’s embrace. “Look at how it’s struggling against its bonds. It doesn’t usually do this. Are we sure it can’t break free?”

Sarrith rolled his eyes. “Yes, _we_ are sure. The chains around its neck were forged by the royal blacksmith and enchanted by High Sorceress Brynna herself. They cut off the beast from its magic. Now, unless you want to insinuate that a mere dragon could break free of elven craftsmanship, I suggest we leave the thing be.”

Their cargo, the dragon, had been quite a find. Sarrith’s cousin had noticed the creature feeding on cattle near the southern mountains, and the King had decided that it would be a fine wedding gift for Sarrith to present to his betrothed. Oh, the ship was filled to the brim with gold, jewels, textiles, and enchanted goods, but the dragon was the real prize. Dragons hadn’t been spotted in elven territory for centuries, and this wedding gift would be the talk of the courts for generations to come.

The dragon wasn’t done with its theatrics though, and the entire crew was starting to get visibly antsy. Even the captain had come out of her cabin—Sarrith didn’t know what she did all day in there—to storm over to him.

“What did you do to enrage it?” she demanded, as if Sarrith had been the one to cause all of this.

“Nothing. Maybe it was Valen and his constant painting.”

Valen shook his head. “No, I don’t think we did anything. Maybe it’s hungry? How much did we feed it last?”

“We had to lower its rations. It eats too much,” the captain said. “But a hungry creature does not bellow. A hungry creature has no energy.”

“How would you know? My cat gets quite vocal when it isn’t fed,” Sarrith countered, and they squabbled on, trying to cast blame on somebody, all while the dragon’s roars got louder and louder.

And then, from out of nowhere, fire rained down upon them.

* * *

Sarrith awoke to a throbbing pain just behind his left eye. It was so bad that he couldn’t fathom moving for several minutes. Every sound reverberated down the shells of his ears and settled behind his eyes, amplifying the pain and making him dizzy, despite his position on the floor.

Opening his eyes proved to be just as painful as hearing, with even the faintest slivers of light piercing straight through his skull. Something was crusted over on the corner of one eye, and he wiped at it, regretting it a second later when he heard footsteps approaching.

“I see you’re awake,” a gravelly voice said. “Good. I have quite the agenda for you. I thought of getting started before you woke, but that would hardly be fair. You’re the guest of honor.”

Sarrith twisted onto his back—another painful movement—and stared up at the man. He had fine, pointed features, deep black hair that curled around his face, and eyes like ice. In the afternoon sun, his skin shimmered in strange ways, until Sarrith realized that those were scales. His ears were long like an elf’s too, except the skin tapered and turned leathery along the earlobes. When the man smiled, a hint of fangs was visible.

His clothes seemed to indicate he was of higher standing, until Sarrith realized that they were his own clothes, meant for the wedding reception. The delicate embroidery depicted a scene from his kingdom’s history, meant to remind his betrothed’s family of their standing and the true nature of the alliance between their two kingdoms.

“That’s mine,” Sarrith croaked, struggling to find his voice even as he pushed himself upright. He had to stop to heave for a moment, the pain behind his eyes so blinding that nothing else registered, not even the man’s hand on his head.

“Shh, it’s all right. We’ll get you all healed up,” the man crooned. His hands emitted a strange warmth that spread across Sarrith’s scalp, and soon whatever pain he’d felt melted away.

“Thank you,” Sarrith said. “I’m fine now. You can let go.” He looked pointedly at the man’s hand wrapped around the end of Sarrith’s braid.

“Do you know who I am?” the man asked, and he coiled the braid around his hand a few times.

“No? Should I? I have no idea what happened. The last thing I remember is standing with Valen—wait. Where’s Valen?” Sarrith tried to look around the area, but the grip on his braid limited his movement. 

He was still on a ship. It looked similar to his own vessel, but it was short one mast and the sails were the wrong color. And now that he had his wits about him, he noticed another major difference: the crew weren’t elves.

They were all orcs; massive and green-skinned, black hair in garish styles, clothes that barely covered their muscles, tusks that jutted out from their mouths and wide, obscene noses. 

Sarrith let out a yelp and tried to scramble away, but the man still had Sarrith’s braid in his hand, and the movement got him a sharp pull on his scalp. “What’s going on? Who the fuck are you people?”

The man smiled, highlighting his sharp canines. “My name is Cobalt. I’m the current captain of this merry crew of pirates.”

Pirates. That explained some, if not all of what was going on. “I see you’ve already helped yourself to my clothes,” Sarrith sneered.

Cobalt laughed loudly and stood, pulling Sarrith’s hair with him. “Kesh! Come over here.”

One of the orcs approached. He was bigger than the rest, with thighs almost as wide as Sarrith’s head, and he was wearing some of the jewelry Sarrith had hand-picked for himself to wear at the wedding ceremony. His green skin glinted with sweat, and his tusks were so large he didn’t seem to be able to close his mouth properly. Even worse: Sarrith could see the gold chain he’d meant to give to Valen the night before the wedding, coiled around one of the orc’s disgusting little braids. 

Unlikes elves, orcs wore their hair in multiple small braids, and they seemed to think that more accessories were better, not at all considering that such an amount might be garish. Nobody at court would ever dare to bind their hair in more than two braids at most—and even that was pushing it—and decorations were limited to a single ribbon or flower. Never jewelry.

“What?” Kesh growled, folding his arms. “I’m busy.”

“Yes, yes, I know. But I wanted to explain to Prince Sarrith just what happened.” Cobalt finally let go of Sarrith’s braid, and Sarrith quickly tucked it close to his body. 

He tried to get out of Cobalt’s range, but Cobalt was surprisingly fast, coming up behind Sarrith and wrapping a hand around Sarrith’s neck. His sharp nails dug into Sarrith’s skin. 

“Once upon a time, a prince decided he needed to bequeath upon his betrothed a very unique wedding present. And he thought nothing of the people in his lands; certainly not once did he even consider what-- _who_ \--his present might be. 

“For you see, little prince, you chose to steal my baby brother. And I couldn’t exactly let that stand. I joined a crew—”

“You stowed away on our ship,” Kesh interrupted.

“Yes, yes. I stowed away, but it turns out, orcs value strength, and I might not look like much right now, but I assure you, I am quite the dragon. So the crew voted me as captain.” Cobalt squeezed lightly. “Any questions?”

Delusional. The man was delusional. Everybody knew that dragons were wild beasts, better off dead or captured than allowed to roam free and wreak havoc on the countryside. Yes, they possessed magic—the magic that allowed them to breathe fire—but they didn’t work spells. They weren’t smart enough for that.

Sarrith reached up to pull Cobalt’s hand off, but found it completely ungiving. “Listen, Cobalt,” he started, only to have Cobalt’s nails dig sharply into his skin.

“You will address me as Captain,” Cobalt hissed, his tongue darting out and lapping the edge of Sarrith’s ear. 

“Fine! Captain!” Sarrith shouted. “What do you want? You know who I am. Just deliver me safely to my wedding, and I’ll make sure you’re well-paid.”

He was surprised when Cobalt abruptly let go and flung him forward, straight into Kesh’s arms. Kesh immediately grabbed Sarrith’s wrists and twisted them up sharply behind his back, forcing a cry out of Sarrith and making him bend forward or suffer more pain.

Cobalt stepped closer and grabbed Sarrith’s hair, bending his head upward. “You think you can pay me off? You stole my brother. You put a slave collar around him! You branded him! He’s only ten, you monster. I don’t want _payment_. I want to make you suffer.”

He backed away again, his eyes glowing with simmering magic. “Kesh, please escort his highness to his friend.”

“With pleasure.” Without warning, Kesh lifted Sarrith over his shoulder. That left Sarrith's hands free, and he pounded against Kesh's back.

"Let me go, you brute!" Sarrith shouted, adding kicks for good measure.

But Kesh laughed, and with his other arm he took hold of Sarrith's legs to keep him from squirming. This close he could smell the orc, spicy and musky. Not as foul-smelling as the tales would have led him to believe, but it was clear Kesh hadn't bathed in a while either. 

"Settle down, little prince," Kesh said. "We'll give you what you need soon."

No matter how much Sarrith struggled, he couldn't get away. He saw Cobalt following them, a wide smile on his face. 

"This isn't funny!" Sarrith shouted. "I'm a prince! My father will have your head once he catches wind of this!"

"Darling, once your father finds you, he'll choose to disown you rather than let you back in the palace." Cobalt's tongue slid out briefly, and with shock Sarrith noticed that it was long, forked and dark purple.

Like a dragon's.

But that couldn't be. Whatever creature Cobalt was, he couldn't be a dragon. Dragons were large, dumb lizards, not sentient people. Dragons couldn't talk. Dragons didn't have families. Dragons didn't have feelings.

Kesh carried Sarrith below deck, where the crew hammocks were set up. A few people lingered here, some sleeping, some playing cards. 

"Where are you taking me?" Sarrith demanded. He'd tired of struggling, the position leaving him somewhat lightheaded, and the darkness making him nervous. He didn’t like being left in the dark. The only light came from a few oil lamps.

“As I said. To join your friend,” Cobalt responded. He walked ahead and opened a door. “After you, Kesh.”

Kesh stepped into the room and unceremoniously dumped Sarrith to the floor before he had time to get his bearings. He scrambled upright, noting the long shadow his body was casting. This room, at least, had better lighting.

He looked up, and for a brief moment, he couldn’t breathe at all.

The scene in front of him was obscene, the kind of thing Sarrith had only seen at a few very exclusive, very _private_ parties. Five large orcs stood in front of him, and at their feet was Valen, naked and dirtied. His beautiful hair had been unevenly chopped short, now reaching only his shoulders. Valen’s beautiful ass was bright red, far redder than Sarrith had ever made it with his own hand. Seed and dried blood stained his thighs, and cum spilled from his lips.

Worst of all were the tears dripping down his face.

“Valen!” Sarrith cried out, and he crawled forward, ready to embrace his dear friend, his lover. Only a second later he was yanked back by his braid. Kesh laughed and tugged a few times, apparently content to hurt Sarrith. 

“No! Your Highness!” Valen crawled forward, but he too was restrained by the orcs huddling near him. “Please! Please don’t hurt him!”

“Aww, isn’t that sweet.” Cobalt stepped between them. “Looks like my crew’s had some fun with your little friend already. How many loads has he taken, Cosok?”

One of the orcs flicked his nose ring. “Since we set this up? Ten? Fifteen? But we got a lot of men who haven’t had their turn yet, and others that said they’ll be back for more. There’s a thought—we should be keeping a tally. Anybody got ink? We can tattoo a line on him for every round of come.”

“No no no no no please,” Valen sobbed. “Please, I’ve been good! I did what you asked!”

Oh goddess, Valen was pathetic in his begging. Sarrith bit his lip and vowed to himself that he wouldn’t ever sink so low. He snarled at Cobalt. “So this is you being less of a _monster_ than I supposedly am? I never raped anybody.”

For some reason that made Valen whimper and curl into himself, while Cobalt burst out laughing. “No? Your armies conquered other countries, and you think you never raped? And what of this marriage? How willing is your consort-to-be? Would you have allowed your new consort to refuse consummation, if you were found lacking?”

Sarrith bristled at the implication. “Shut your mouth, pirate.”

“No. I believe it’s time for you to shut yours. Kesh, please remove the prince’s clothing for him.” 

“Sure thing.” It didn’t seem to take Kesh any effort to rip the fine linens from Sarrith’s body. Beautifully embroidered fabric, torn to pieces by the orc’s filthy hands. Sarrith pounded his fists against the arm still holding his braid, but his efforts didn’t even faze Kesh. The muscles might as well have been made of stone.

His nakedness didn’t register at first. Scraps of fabric still hung from his frame, and despite the rips, the wide holes, the way his nipples were starting to pebble in the chilled cargo hold air, Sarrith was numb to the situation.

Until Cobalt came forward, holding a long knife. It was one of Sarrith’s own, given to him by a cousin some years ago. He’d always considered it more decorative than anything else, seeing as how Sarrith’s only experience with fighting was the highly controlled environment of show fencing.

Cobalt cut away the remainder of the clothes while Kesh held Sarrith still. Valen cried out some more, complaints or begging or whatever. Valen needed to shut up.

Then Cobalt grabbed Sarrith’s braid near the base.

Suddenly Valen’s begging made sense. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sarrith shouted. Everybody in the room laughed. Save Valen, of course, who cried even more strongly.

“I very much dare,” Cobalt responded, and with the next movement the knife sliced through Sarrith’s hair.

No. No. No. Sarrith’s heartbeat stuttered. Not his braid. His symbol of status. 

“You really don’t need this anymore,” Cobalt said, holding up the braid. “Wouldn’t want you to get any ideas about your place in the world.” He breathed in sharply, and on his next exhale, fire escaped his lips, consuming the hair and burning it to ash in the matter of mere seconds. Cobalt grinned at Sarrith. “Still don’t believe that I’m a dragon?”

One of the orcs came forward with a long rope. Sarrith sat mutely while Kesh and the second orc wrapped the rope around his torso, binding his arms to his chest and immobilizing him. 

Did it matter, at this point? His hair. His hair was gone.

“My wedding,” Sarrith murmured. “They won’t—they won’t accept me. What have you done? What have you done?” 

Cobalt shook his head and turned to face Valen. “He seems more affected by a bit of hair than by your plight. How about we give him a taste of what you’ve been through?”

That snapped Sarrith out of it. “Leave him out of it! Your quarrel is with me, apparently!”

One advantage to having no braid—to his head feeling unnaturally light, to his entire appearance being reduce to that of a fucking commoner, a beggar on the streets, his hair shorter even than Valen’s, and that was unacceptable, why—but at least there was nothing for the pirates to grab anymore. He stood awkwardly, ignoring the laughter of the orcs at his unsteady steps, ignoring his own nudity. He was a prince. 

“If you insist. Kesh, if you would?” Cobalt nodded at Kesh; in the next instance, Kesh lifted up Sarrith by his thighs. Sarrith’s back pressed against Kesh’s chest, his legs were splayed out wide, and his cock hung limply between his legs. 

He saw the hungry stare of the orcs, noticed how Valen scrunched up his face and averted his gaze. Sarrith tried to get out of Kesh’s grasp, but the orc was twice his size and ridiculously strong, holding Sarrith as if he weighed nothing. Any movement made Sarrith fear he was going to tip forward onto the floor, and with his arms bound he would have no way to break his fall.

“Put me down, you brute!” Sarrith snapped. 

Kesh bit down on Sarrith’s sensitive ear; Sarrith cried out sharply before he could stop himself. 

“You’ll find that you no longer give the orders, little prince,” Cobalt said, stepping close and grabbing one of Sarrith’s legs to stop him from kicking. With the other hand, he took hold of Sarrith’s cock and gave it a languid sort of stroke, his scaled hands cool and smooth, like a pair of snakeskin gloves. 

Heat coiled at the pit of Sarrith’s stomach. Not arousal. It couldn’t be arousal, because nothing about the situation was arousing. He was outraged. They wouldn’t dare. They wouldn’t dare touch him like they’d touched Valen.

They’d already cut his hair though. Burned it into nothing.

“I think I’m going to fuck you,” Cobalt said casually. “Do you take it, usually? I imagine you must, since your cock is so much smaller than your friend’s here, and he was quick to admit that the two of you were lovers.”

That traitor. Sarrith glared at Valen, but Valen still wasn’t looking at him. 

“I’ve never had complaints about my size,” Sarrith growled.

“No, I imagine not. You’re the prince, after all. Nobody would ever say anything to your face.” Cobalt dug his sharp claws into the head of Sarrith’s cock, sudden flashes of blinding pain, so bad that his breath caught in his throat.

That wasn’t true. It was manipulation, that was all. Sarrith was familiar with the technique; he was a master of cutting down people with a few well-chosen words. Dig into people’s insecurities, make them doubt themselves, have them start believing that your opinion was the one to be trusted.

“You’ll... you’ll have to do better than that,” Sarrith taunted through gritted teeth. 

“Oh, I intend to.” Cobalt pushed Sarrith’s cock aside. “Boy! Crawl over here. Get your prince nice and ready for me.”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sarrith shouted. “Valen, if you touch me, I will never forgive you.”

Valen whimpered and looked between the two of them, but then one of the orcs nudged Valen’s ass with his foot. That got Valen crawling forward, and no matter how much Sarrith shouted at him to stop, Valen kept approaching.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Valen kept saying, as if his words mattered. 

“Good boy,” Cobalt said once Valen reached them. He petted Valen’s head like one would a dog. “Now get your mouth on your prince’s hole.”

Valen stood and bent forward to reach; Sarrith tried to make it harder for him, squirming in Kesh’s grasp, but between Kesh’s firm grip and Cobalt restraining Sarrith’s leg, there was no avoiding Valen’s mouth.

Familiarity was the only reason it felt good, Sarrith told himself. Valen knew him intimately, had done this often enough just to please Sarrith. No wonder Valen was good at rimming. He was sloppier with the spit than Sarrith normally liked, but that was because Cobalt was there, ordering Valen to be messier, to get Sarrith nice and wet. 

Valen was crying the entire time. As if he were the one suffering this indignity. Sarrith kicked his leg again, and this time he managed to clip Cobalt’s ear. The slight grunt of pain from Cobalt energized him, and he tried to kick harder, but the two pirates had caught on and tightened their grips.

“Cosok, bring more rope over,” Cobalt ordered. “The little prince doesn’t seem to appreciate the situation he’s in.”

“With pleasure.” Cosok came over with the rope in question. It took Sarrith a moment to understand what Cobalt had in mind as the two wound rope around one knee. The rope got looped through one of the other ropes around his torso, and then tied to his second knee. There wasn’t a lot of give, forcing his legs even higher and making even the smallest of movements near impossible.

All the while, Valen kept licking and sucking at his hole, sparks of pleasure making Sarrith’s cock rise.

Cobalt stepped back. “What a sight. How are you holding up, Kesh?”

“I’m good. I could do this all day; the prince is so skinny, he weighs almost nothing.” Kesh lifted Sarrith even higher, as if to prove his point.

“Good man.” Cobalt undid the laces of his breeches—of Sarrith’s breeches—and pulled out his cock. His cocks. Two cocks, each a light purple in color, one a bit thicker than the other. They were long and pointed, with visible ridges on the underside and little bumps along the crown.

“What the fuck. Stop. Don’t come any closer!” Sarrith shouted, which got him laughter from everybody except Valen, who was still licking.

Cobalt stroked his cocks. Liquid dripped out of the tip on one of them, dribbling over Cobalt’s hand. “Never seen dragon dicks before, little prince? And really, there’s nothing to be afraid of. Kesh is considerably larger than both of mine put together.”

That just made the hard, hot length resting between Sarrith’s back and Kesh’s stomach stand out more. Maybe it throbbed. Sarrith had been doing his best to ignore it, to tell himself it was Kesh’s belt or jacket or something, but no, it had to be the orc’s massive cock, to go along with how massive the rest of him was.

Sarrith had been fucked before, a few times. He didn’t like it. He preferred to be the one on top. And when he _had_ bottomed, it had always been a long, languid affair, with a lot of lube.

All he had right now was Valen’s spit. 

Either of Cobalt or Kesh’s cocks would split him in half, he was sure of it. There was no way. He couldn’t take that. He shouted and tried to kick, but nothing prevented Cobalt from pushing Valen aside and stepping between Sarrith’s legs.

“You’ll be marked by me, little prince,” Cobalt said, trailing a slimy, precome-coated finger down Sarrith’s cheek. He rubbed that same finger across Sarrith’s lips, then forced it inside, his sharp nail scratching at Sarrith’s gums. 

Sarrith bit down as hard as he could, but despite how he could feel a trickle of liquid in his mouth—blood?—Cobalt didn’t make any indication that he was in pain. On the contrary; Cobalt smiled widely. 

“Didn’t they ever warn you about dragon’s blood, little prince? It’s a little bit toxic to you mammals.” He withdrew his finger, and Sarrith tried to spit as quickly as he could, but he’d already swallowed some, and most of it simply dribbled down his chin anyway.

“Poison?”

“No, not poison. You aren’t going to die. But things are about to get very interesting for you,” Cobalt said. 

Kesh laughed loudly, his breath ghosting along Sarrith’s ears and disturbing the wound from earlier. “We used it on your little friend earlier. He seemed to love it.”

His tusks against Sarrith’s neck seemed to be rougher, pressing in more sharply. Sarrith suddenly worried not just that he was going to be split in half by Kesh and Cobalt’s cocks, but about those tusks tearing into his neck and murdering him. He quivered in fear, and oh god, even that little movement dragged the nerves on his skin.

That wasn’t normal. 

“What does it do? What does dragon blood do?”

“You’ll see,” Cobalt answered, and thrust his hips forward, penetrating Sarrith in one movement. Sarrith cried out at the sudden pain, but more than that, at the intensity, at the strange pleasure. He could feel every single ridge on Cobalt’s cock—and it was just the one cock, the large one. The other one was nestled against Sarrith’s own erection.

The orcs around them hooted and gave commentary. Sarrith could barely hear them, every part of him focused on just that connection between him and Cobalt. This wasn’t normal. This couldn’t be normal. Each thrust sent a strange mixture of pleasure and pain through him, made his cock throb and drip.

“Boy, get my cock out,” Kesh ordered. Sarrith was confused for a moment—he couldn’t do anything, he was speared in half, he was exhausted and immobile—but of course, he was addressing Valen. Through blurred vision he saw Valen scramble forward and reach up between Cobalt and Kesh’s bodies. His hand brushed against Sarrith’s ass, and even that was too much, another sharp slap, another tender caress. His body couldn’t decide.

But once Kesh’s cock was out, oh god. The size he’d felt didn’t even come close to the real thing. It jutted out from under Sarrith’s legs, rubbing between his cheeks and against Cobalt’s cock. 

At some point Sarreth had stopped being able to do anything but take it. His mouth opened and closed, but no sounds came out, and yes, it was pleasure now that he felt, not pain. Cobalt had one hand wrapped around both his second cock and Sarrith’s, fluids mixing together and dripping between them down to Sarrith’s hole and Kesh’s monster erection.

“Kesh, you want to join me in here?” Cobalt said, his voice uneven. “He’s so tight. It’s as close to flying as you’ll experience while fucking somebody.”

That snapped Sarrith out of it. “No!” He already felt too much. He couldn’t. He absolutely couldn’t take Kesh as well. “You’ll kill me!”

Another round of laughter from everybody, and a loud sob from Valen. 

Cobalt paused in his fucking for a moment. “Tell you what, little prince. I’ll give you a choice. I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to keep fucking you. But maybe it’ll just be me.”

That had to be better than being fucked by Kesh. “Yes, yes!” Sarrith shouted.

Cobalt looked annoyed. “I wasn’t done. I’ll keep you all to myself. You’ll be part of my dragon’s hoard. But your little friend here is going to have to take everything that you didn’t. He’ll be branded, pierced. They’ll put a nose ring on him, a million little earrings. And he’ll be available to everybody on deck, until he’s so broken that he’s useless, until he’s given up on life and the only merciful thing to do is to throw him into the sea.

“But if you take me and Kesh both now, I’ll spare him. I’ll keep him with you, two beautiful pets. You’ll be _my_ wedding present to my future beloved. And dragons take very good care of their treasures.” Cobalt grinned. “What will it be?”

Sarrith made the mistake of looking down, of seeing Valen’s tear- and come-stained face. His eyes were so hopeful, his mouth parted lightly, and the choice was so easy.

“No. No, I can’t take Kesh,” Sarrith said. “I’d die.”

The orcs all laughed, seemingly amused by the situation, but Cobalt snarled at him. “You’re worse than I thought.” He looked over his shoulder. “Take the boy away. Kesh and I will finish here.”

Valen howled as the orcs picked him up, and the look he gave Sarrith was so accusing, as if he wouldn’t have made the same choice. As if it even _was_ a choice. Sarrith closed his eyes.

“Sorry to keep you here, Kesh. But don’t worry; I’ll make it good for you too.” Cobalt began thrusting with more force, and his other cock rubbed against Sarrith’s erection, and then Cobalt kissed him, biting his lip with so much force that blood burst forth. Cobalt’s long, forked tongue snaked into Sarrith’s mouth and explored every inch of him, even the back of Sarrith’s throat, to the point where he thought he might choke on that tongue.

This went on and on, until suddenly Kesh moaned loudly and one of his tusks caught on Sarrith’s shoulder. The sharp pain made Sarrith’s mind blank, his entire body tense, and the next drag of Cobalt’s ridges against his prostate was so intense that Sarrith came.

He was still far too sensitized when first one, then the other one of Cobalt’s cocks spurted with a sweet-smelling liquid. Dragon seed, sticky and probably just as toxic as the blood.

Cobalt pulled out, and Kesh dropped Sarrith unceremoniously. He landed with a grunt on the puddle of their combined liquids.

“What are you going to do with him?” Kesh asked.

“Well, I promised I’d be the only one to use him. But I never said I’d always be in human form when I did,” Cobalt said.

Sarrith’s eyes widened at the implication. “What? You can’t. You can’t!”

Cobalt smirked at him. “You’ll find that I very much can. And remember, you chose this. You condemned your friend to torture, just to spare yourself a little bit of pain. So I’ll hear no complaints from you.”

The two used the rags of Sarrith’s clothes to clean themselves up, ignoring all of Sarrith’s protests. 

“I’ll see you soon, little prince,” Cobalt said with a bow. “Do think about your poor life choices while you’re here.”

Sarrith watched as the two left him, the door closing behind them and all the lights going out.


End file.
